


Break

by Nununununu



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Episodes 14 and 15 spoilers, Gen, Missing Scene, Panic Attacks, Protectiveness, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: Din chose to remove his helmet for Grogu's sake. In that context, how can he regret it?But it still doesn't make the aftermath easy.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 6
Kudos: 118





	Break

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small take on what might have happened after episodes 14 & 15 (contains brief mild implication of Cara/Fennec)
> 
> TW for a panic attack

There isn’t any night in space, but it’s late all the same. Late enough Cara and Fennec have disappeared with the intention of checking over their weapons and then catching some sleep – although there had been a certain tone to Cara’s voice and a certain look to Fennec’s gaze that implied something else might also take place. Fett’s in the cockpit, seeing to the ship, while Din –

Din can’t.

Already checked and cleaned his weapons, checked his jetpack – _the jetpack_ , kriff; no he can’t think about that now – crushed emotion down inside him so hard it hurts, gone over what plan they have – part of him doesn’t want a plan, doesn’t care about a plan, just wants what he’s lost and wants it now –

What he’s lost –

He can’t think about that either. Can’t think about the child.

The child is all he can think about. The child and the empty space in his arms, the lack of the tiny weight of the little one balanced on his knee, the soft sound of the kid breathing at night as Din falls asleep alongside him and –

No. He can’t. If he thinks about the child hurt and terrified and alone, he –

No. No.

A sound tries to force its way out between the block in his throat; he has to struggle to force it back, largely fails. He has to struggle not to let his hands fist in his gloves; struggle not to want to hit something – oh, how he wants to hit something, some _one_ , someone in particular; just to hit and keep on hitting –

No. To this as well. Because ultimately that’s unimportant. Ultimately all of it is unimportant – even the fact he took his helmet off and that he had the opportunity to _put it back on_ before it was too late but he _didn’t_ , too caught up in the knowledge that it was his one and only chance to get that information, his one and only chance to get the child back and –

He needs to breathe.

Can’t do this, either.

“ _Kid_ ,” The word is a gasp; it doesn’t even make it as far as his ears. His mind whirling, sparks of light going off in the outside corners of his eyes as it feels like his ribs constrict around his lungs; as if a hand squeezes there in his chest until its all wrung out and he’s reeling with the need for oxygen.

_Kid_ –

No. No, not that. He’d said that before, hadn’t he, calling the child over and over as he tried time and again to fight his way through that forcefield. And he’d failed. Not just because of the jetpack, but because maybe he should have said –

“Grogu.”

It’s more the shape of the name than the name itself. But a little air makes it in around that block in Din’s throat anyway, just enough to make his hands spasm inside his gloves and his whole body shudder, and then something seems to shake free inside him and he’s breathing, _breathing_ , sucking in air so hard he nearly chokes. Wheezing as that broken something tries its utmost to make it out, tries to crack his ribs and throat open and spill out of him unstoppably, his eyes stinging with the effort of straining to prevent it, and he – he –

No.

No again. No to this too.

The child needs him. _Grogu_ needs him. Nothing else matters. The fact the Crest is gone along with so many of his weapons and everything else they had on board; the fact his helmet doesn’t feel like it used to, feels like it somehow – or _he_ – has intrinsically changed; the fact that for the first time in decades he truly doesn’t know what is right or whether he has spent almost his whole life believing in something he perhaps, just perhaps, should not –

No. None of these should be a concern.

And, ultimately, none of them are. Because Din knows what is right. He _knows_ what he believes in.

He knows who is out there, waiting for him. Believing in him too.

“Grogu,” It’s easier to say it now. Easier to say what he should have said all along. Din straightens and doesn’t feel the pain of injuries taken in battle with useless Imperial armour. Doesn’t feel or know anything other than the knowledge of _what_ _he is going to do_.

His voice comes steady now. Words spoken as a certainty; as a promise. The truth. This is what matters, when nothing else does.

“I’m coming for you.”


End file.
